Confessions of a Hateless Christian

In the wake of the recent SCOTUS ruling on gay marriage, I was incredibly disappointed by the number of extremely hateful comments I was seeing from fellow Christians. These individuals were not decrying homosexuality as a sin – they were commenting that gay people should die. That God hates “fags” (I cringe even typing that word).

What disappointed me just as much were the comments that would follow, from people stating that all Christians are hateful. That we are judgmental, and superior, and don’t follow the teachings of Christ to love our neighbors and our enemies.

When I tried to defend myself and those Christians in my life who are not that way, I was told that it’s just as much my fault (and the fault of those like me) for not speaking up and trying to show what Christianity is really about. That I am letting it happen.

What everyone forgets is a point that I made in this article, which is that “crazy shouts, sanity whispers.” The vocal minority often overwhelms the quiet patience of the majority on both sides. But here’s the thing – even if I were shouting my message of love from the rooftop of my office building, that’s not going to capture the attention of the country or the media. The Westboro Baptist Church picketing the funerals of those they deem sinners makes for great news. A woman buying a homeless man juice and a muffin and sitting to ask about his life for 20 minutes on her way out of work does not. A pastor preaching that you should give your gay children to Satan and cast them out of your home is fantastic click-bait. A man praying for the drunk driver who killed his wife and child isn’t.

Despite that, here I am. This is me yelling at the top of my lungs that I don’t hate you. Either of you. Not the fanatic who decries everyone else’s sins as unforgivable (often while excusing their own), and not the people committing whatever those sins may be.

I wasn’t always that way. I was raised Catholic, but I broke with the church at 15. A number of factors including my sister’s baptism, a lost job, becoming a mother, and a wonderful group of women brought me to my current church, where I was baptized in the spring. Prior to that “come to Christ” moment, as some call it, I thought Christians were superior and judgmental for the most part. And I hated certain people – abusers, addicts – those whose sins I deemed unforgivable.

But something happens when you come to Christ. There’s a misconception that being “saved” means you are somehow above others. That you are better. Nothing could be further from the truth. To be saved, you first have to admit that you are a sinner. That you are not better than anyone. That you cannot, to paraphrase, examine the speck in your neighbor’s eye before you take the log out of your own. It’s the most humbling experience I’ve ever had in my life. And when you truly believe that, and truly believe Jesus’ sacrifice and resurrection, you also realize that He died for all of our sins. Not just mine. Not just the ones I think of as “minor”. Whether you overeat, play flash games when you’re supposed to be working, drink until you pass out every night, neglect your children, or do something I deem unconscionable (rape, murder, and molestation come to mind), we are taught that Jesus died for all of it. I can certainly understand struggling with that – it’s very difficult to separate the person from the act. I still have A LOT of trouble sometimes.

But beyond that, Jesus didn’t just hang out with his apostles and religious leaders. He sat with lepers, prayed with sinners, and even saved a woman about to be stoned to death for her sins. He associated with those society deemed to be the worst of the worst. I think this writer said it better than I ever could: “He didn’t stand on the shore and yell across the water that Peter better follow or he’d be going to Hell. He invited him into a relationship and offered him a role in the story.” I’m not going to lie – the thought of Jesus acting like that actually made me laugh it was so ridiculous.

And that’s the point – how on earth can we ever share God’s love with those who need it if we’re too busy throwing stones at them? No one has ever come around to another’s point of view by that person shouting at them and calling them names. And you can’t look someone in the eye and share the gospel if you’re looking down your nose at them. Why would they want to be a part of something that, as far as they can see, makes you cruel to others? As a Christian, I hope to be an example. I don’t know that I’ll ever be as good of an example as I’d like. I don’t exercise like I should, I’m on my phone too much, I’ve said unkind things about others, and I sometimes let my pride get the best of me. Let’s not forget that I actually like the music of Creed and have owned three of their albums since high school. But I want my faith, and my imperfect life, to be a beacon of light to others. I want them to look at me, to see the love and joy that I’m receiving and sharing, and want that for themselves.

And you know what? If you see that and don’t come to Christ, I won’t love you any less. I won’t stop showing you kindness. I won’t think for one second that I’m any better than you are. I won’t call you names; I won’t cast you aside as hopeless. I will laugh with you, share meals with you, and spend time with you. I will love you. Because I can’t imagine what it’s like to walk around with a heart full of hate. What a pointless, needless burden.

All I ask of you right now is this: help me shout. Help me drown out the anger. Share this piece, write your own, or just talk to someone. But don’t stay silent. Don’t let the word “Christian” become synonymous with “hate”. Because that’s not what it’s all about.